


Perceptual

by danceswithgary



Series: Screen Savor [9]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Devices, Ascension, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost in the darkness, John's depending on Rodney to find him. This is a standalone, but if interested in a backstory, see my <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/1188">Screen Savor</a> series, where this would be set after 'Missing Person'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perceptual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goddess47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess47/gifts).



  
[  
Click for fullsize](http://pics.livejournal.com/danceswithgary/pic/0030zwht)   


John doesn't have a plan, there's no time to come up with one. All he can do is react to the flashing countdown that he's seen go wrong too many times before to believe anything good is going to happen. He shoves the hapless scientist - Mathers or Matthews maybe and thinks he's getting to be worse than Rodney when it comes to names - out of the lab, locks the door, and returns to the console to try to stop whatever it is before the Ancient numbers reach the equivalent of zero. A second or five passes while he tries to make sense of the controls and wishes Rodney was there to fix it, then John's really glad that he isn't because the button John had read as 'shutdown' obviously doesn't.

For too many seconds that he's in too much pain to count, it feels as though every nerve in John's body is on fire then it's over, at least John hopes it is. He figures he must have passed out before it stopped because he doesn't feel any pain now that he's coming to. It's dark and quiet after the white lightning and shouting - John will never admit to screaming - but he's sure that his eyes and ears will kick back in soon. He knows that any second now, he'll see and hear Rodney bitching out the idiot who'd touched something he shouldn't have while Rodney left the lab to take a leak.

Any second now.

Still stuck in the dark silence, John begins to thinks it's weirder than usual. He's woken up feeling numb before - Wraith stunners and Ronon's gun really suck - but it's different this time, like he's completely disconnected from his body, just floating in the dark. He tries shouting, "McKay!" but he can't even hear himself, isn't even sure he's opened his mouth.

There's just...nothing.

When John tries to analyze what's happening, in true McKay fashion, it isn't like waking up from anesthesia or Carson's good drugs, or even being stuck in a nightmare. The closest John can come to the sensation is the time he'd been put through sensory deprivation during training. The idea had been to give the trainees an idea of what it might be like if the enemy decided to use it as a torture technique. A sound-proof room, blackout goggles, and headphones had cut John off long enough for him to start seeing flashes of light - nothing close to the LSD hallucination they'd warned could happen if he were left isolated too long - but John doesn't recall losing his body during the experience. He could lick his lips back then, feel his skin and breath under his fingertips, even sense the pressure of his body against the padded chair, and what's happening is nothing like that.

Unrestrained, John shuffles forward - he hopes - reaching out in front, waves his hand hoping to touch a bench, a wall, something, _somebody_. He doesn't find anything, so he yells and punches out instead because the pain of a broken hand would feel better than nothing.

Nothing.

It keeps running through John's mind that Rodney should be there, that even if John is blind and deaf - _it's just fucking temporary, dammit_ \- his big, warm hands should be touching John, telling John it'll be okay using Morse code or something. John refuses to panic because he knows it's going to be okay in the end. It's Rodney's turn and he'll reverse whatever the damn machine did or get John back from wherever it sent him.

John has to believe Rodney can fix the mess John's in because otherwise John's as good as...dead.

...---...---...

The second time John wakes it's different because he's fuzzy like Carson's used the good stuff, which leaves him hoping Rodney's done the impossible again. It doesn't take long for the silent darkness to blow that hope to pieces like a C-4 charge set off in John's brain. Even thinking 'open' and 'off' and even 'on' are doing him no good, no matter how many times he tries after losing count of the seconds passing.

John wonders if the machine was another one the damn Ancients were using for their Ascension experiments and what's he's supposed to do with that. He doesn't care that Rodney would likely use the downtime to try to make sense of that math from when he nearly ascended - John just wants out because real blue skies beat the meditated kind every time. The alternatives are that he's blind, deaf, and completely paralyzed from the hair down or dead.

"I think therefore I am," John shouts at the dancing colors he can't name, ignoring the specter of paralysis and refusing to believe he's dead. Remembering a depressing novel he'd read for English class, _Johnny Got His Gun_ , he blinks his eyes. Faster and faster he wills his eyelids to communicate for him - _please let them see me blink because I can't fucking feel it_ \- and shouts at the silent, blue-faced Rodney floating by, "Will someone fucking do _something_ to let me know I'm really here?"

No one answers.

...---...---...

Another fuzzy awakening in limbo - not the ridiculous game John had played once or twice when he was too drunk to care about knees and backs and dignity - the real Limbo or Purgatory that he learned about in Sunday School and that appeared to be missing any chance of redemption. After an immeasurable period of time when shouting and kicking does nothing to help, John starts watching his own private clip show because it's a hell of a lot better than the crazy Wraith hallucinations he keeps trying to kill with an empty gun.

Rodney looks up at John with that Eureka! grin that said he'd solved another puzzle, brings John chicken soup that tastes appalling but John eats anyway, and rants at the idiocy of the Ancients. John's favorite is Mer sprawled across the bed and waving John closer with a smirk that promised John everything he'd ever wanted.

It might be helping to keep John sane, but also hurts like hell to see what he can't have while he's stuck alone in the darkness.

...---...---...

The fourth? fifth? time, it's fuzzy again, but different because the bright lines and graphs floating in front of John mean something to him. He knows those charts for altitude and speed and that funny, little side menu in Ancient like the back of his missing hand that kind of aches for a change. Pins and needles start up, and he suddenly wants to rub the feeling back into his entire tingling, twitchy body. There's a low muttering in the background, and John can almost make out a few words in a voice he recognizes. "...wake...idiot...time..."

He's tried before and failed, but thinks it's worth another shot, so he yells, "McKay?" and John can finally hear himself, a little rough and muffled like he was underwater. "Hey! Anyone there?"

"I'm right here, John. No need to yell." Rodney's face is there when John blinks away the HUD, a little blurry at the edges, but most definitely there with a sad, crooked frown and tired-looking blue eyes. There's a raspy catch in Rodney's voice, but not even a hint of humor or sarcasm, when he asks John, "Can you hear me now?"

"Loud and clear, buddy." A dry spot on John's lower lip cracks when he smiles back at Rodney, but he doesn't care because Rodney's hand is warm against his cheek. John can see how worried Rodney must have been, the dark rings around his eyes with matching scraggly stubble a good indicator that too much time has passed since John went AWOL in his own head.

When John looks a little closer, there's also a yellow-green bruise spread across one of Rodney's cheekbones , and that bit of evidence makes John frown. He reaches out to bring Rodney closer, and that's when John finds out he's been restrained, which John guesses makes sense since he was completely out of it on a gurney _in a 'jumper in space_. Nevertheless, he doesn't think the padded leather is necessary anymore, so he tugs again and then asks, "Can I get a little help here?"

Rodney pulls his hand back and looks around as if searching for the answer before slowly shaking his head. "Um, not yet? Carson and Kate should probably...." Rodney trails off with a worried frown, and John gets the feeling that Rodney wasn't expecting John to be ready to get up and go quite so soon.

John twists his head to see if anyone else is aboard, but he can't see beyond the pillow. "Well, is he here? Ronon? Teyla?"

"Just me." Rodney sits in the pilot's chair and doesn't quite meet John's eyes while he haltingly explains, "This trip isn't exactly authorized, or particularly safe for that matter, and I knew you wouldn't want me to get them into trouble with Elizabeth or, more importantly, put anyone else in danger."

John isn't sure he understands what Rodney is saying. "Not safe? You wanna explain what's been going on while I've been out of it and how a shielded 'jumper..." he pauses to check their position above the planet, "in geosynchronous orbit above Atlantis is dangerous?"

Rodney tilts his head, but doesn't answer right away. It's odd, but John can feel the intensity of Rodney's analyzing gaze a lot better than he can feel the tips of his fingers or toes, where the last of the pins and needles have settled. After a few moments, Rodney huffs and says, "You certainly sound lucid enough. Do you remember anything?"

"Not much after that timer or whatever it was ran down. A hell of a lot of nothing." Getting irritated by the delay, John twists and squirms on the gurney, attempting and failing to relieve the ache of muscles kept in one place too long. As he cricks his neck with several crackly stretches, he catches a few whiffs of flop sweat mixed with the antiseptic soap Carson uses in the infirmary, an unpleasant mix that has him longing for a hot shower. "I couldn't hear or see or feel anything."

"That's what we figured out when you kept yelling but couldn't seem to pick up anything we were doing. It was also easy to tell you weren't paralyzed. Carson ended up keeping you sedated while we tried to figure out what to do." Rodney's fingers skim the bruise on his cheek and, although Rodney never says a word about how he got it, John knows who put it there.

Rodney shakes his head and continues. "I didn't bother to memorize all the gobbledegook Carson and Kate came up with, but basically you weren't receiving any feedback from the sensory portion of your nervous system. In other words, you managed to set off another Ancient shortcut to Ascension, the ultimate in meditation, no senses means no distraction from the goal. Fortunately, since they weren't out to actually _kill_ people, the rest of you still worked, so we didn't have to worry about keeping you breathing or your heart beating with a machine."

With a sigh, Rodney lowers his head in apparent exhaustion, rubbing his eyes with hands shaking enough to make John concerned. "Hey, you look like you need some food and rest, Mer. Think we can wrap this up and head home?" John tries another smile and waves his forefinger a little when Rodney looks back up at him. "I'm feeling kind of hungry myself." With a nod toward the IV in the back of his restrained hand he points out, "That glucose stuff only goes so far after a day or two."

That teases a smile and a chuckle from Rodney, and John starts to feel a little better because a quiet, worried-looking Rodney is just _wrong_. "I hate those too, but I didn't want to disconnect you completely in case I needed to put you back under." He points to a syringe balanced on the dialing mechanism, close enough to grab. "Not only did Carson and Kate conjecture that leaving you conscious and cut-off might induce psychosis, but you were also a menace around certain pieces of Ancient equipment, turning them on and off at random."

Getting to his feet with a groan, Rodney starts to unbuckle the restraints. "You sound okay to me, so I'm going to take the chance." His warm hands feel good against John's skin and, when Rodney hears John's small moan of pleasure, he slows down to rub some of the aches away as he talks. "I couldn't find anything in the database for reversing the effects, so they decided - over my strong objections - that it was best for Atlantis to send you through the gate for longterm care."

John isn't sure whether he'd missed something while distracted by the pleasure of Rodney's touch, but he thinks Rodney's deliberately leaving something out. "So you kidnapped me so that you could....?"

His head down as he works the stiffness from John's hand and fingers, Rodney quietly admits, "I had no scientific basis for trying this, I was just going with my gut. You could still affect Ancient machinery, but it was simple on-off, for the most part. I hypothesized that if you were allowed to interface with the more complex systems it might be enough to break through the block, but I couldn't get Elizabeth to approve it, even though everyone knows how you talk to your favorite 'jumpers and they talk right back."

John can't resist teasing as he draws Rodney closer, enjoying having both hands released and functional. "The Great Dr. Rodney McKay relied on his intuition to break the rules?"

Not resisting the pull, Rodney rolls his eyes, but doesn't lose his smile. "I know - and that just bothers the hell out of me - but it worked." There is a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he leans in for the kiss John's been craving since he woke up in the light, both of them ignoring the sourish scent and taste of unbrushed teeth.

Wishing there was room on the gurney for more, even though certain portions of his anatomy still seem sluggish, John relaxes back with a resigned sigh. "We need to do that again in a real bed. Soon?" His stomach growls in protest and Rodney's responds with its own grumble, making them both laugh. "Okay, after food."

With a sniff at both of them, Rodney wrinkles his nose in disgust. "And a shower." He slips back into the pilot's seat, not offering to let John drive, and John doesn't push it because he can feel the fatigue weighing heavy under his sensitized skin and hindering his reaction time.

John's still curious about a few things though. "Not that I mind the scenery, but wasn't there an easier way than going into orbit?"

"Why not stay in Atlantis and use the chair instead going through all the hassle of getting you to a 'jumper?" Rodney taps his own temple twice before frowning and shaking his head. "That would be due to the 'he could become psychotic' conjecture, which meant using a 'jumper risked less collateral damage. I calculated that up here I would have plenty of time to use that syringe and then correct course if you went psycho on me."

"Was there a Plan B?"

That question makes Rodney pause for a moment and then he shrugs. "To be honest, I was torn between heading to Proculus and asking your glowy girlfriend to help ascend you, or going back to Earth and calling in as many favors needed to have either Sam or Vala use a Go'auld healing device on you. According to my ascend-o-meter, the numbers were there. All it needed was you knowing it was okay to let go in order to ascend, but that was the key. _You didn't know._ However, then you'd be gone and, although Jackson makes it a habit of coming back, Ascension is the same as dead when it comes to everyone you leave behind."

"Mer, I...."

Thankfully, Rodney rambles over John's halting semi-apology for something John's pretty sure he'd never do voluntarily. John decides he won't mention that he'd figured out it was probably an ascension thing, and that he'd resisted taking the blue sky option, because there's no way that conversation would go well. "Of course, the second of those options likely wouldn't have worked any better because there was no one place in your brain that Carson could point to and say, 'Fix that broken piece right there,' so I would have to come up with something else because I'll never leave you behind."

Although he has a lump in his throat, John's still able to offer his heartfelt gratitude as he watches Rodney bring them down through the atmosphere. "Thanks, Mer. It was a really good call. I knew I could count on you."

Despite his evident weariness, Rodney nods and keeps the jumper on course and, when John asks him to, holds them in a hover a few miles out in order to watch the sun come up behind the spires of Atlantis. John smiles when Rodney mutters something about a missing camera, but John doesn't say a word.

He's too busy storing the image in his personal on-board clip show...for the inevitable next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2011 [Sheppard HC](http://sheppard-hc.livejournal.com) Summer Exchange. From **goddess47** : **3 things you want (words/phrases/plot points):** sweaty John; John making a sacrifice for someone else or for team; trouble in a Jumper. I think I shoehorned those in. :-D
> 
> References used while trying to decide how to whump John (although not much made it in as usual):  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sensory_deprivation  
> http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/10/hallucinations/  
> http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2007/06/07/sensory_deprivation  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mescaline  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autonomic_nervous_system  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coma  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locked-in_syndrome  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnny_Got_His_Gun  
> http://blogs.discovery.com/good_idea/2009/06/downloading-data-directly-into-your-brain.html


End file.
